The Mute

Chapter 2

Long ago, I stopped believing in love. My parents have been divorced since I was three. I hardly remember my father since I was so young when he left us. Nick used to tell me stories about our father at night. He would say that our parents were in love when he was younger. Then our grandmother on our father's side became ill and died shortly after I was born. Nick said our parents would fight all night, sometimes until one night, our mother had enough and kicked our father out of the house. He never returned after that and never sent anything for birthdays or Christmas. Some say he killed himself. Others say that he ran away with someone much younger than himself. Either way, no one knows where he is or if he's alive. I honestly could care less about him because I never knew him. I was abandoned by my own father.

After my father left, my mother stopped caring about my brother and me. She would be gone for days, sometimes weeks at a time. Then, she would come home with someone and be drunk. I hardly remember seeing my mother sober.

The night when my mother was killed, it was easy for that man to enter the house and kill her. She had come home about an hour later and was already passed out, drunk. That man wasn't quiet about entering our house. He was loud and banging things around, ensuring he was heard. I woke up from a dead sleep because of all the noise. At first, I thought it was Mother, but when I went to see her, I didn't see mother. I saw the intruder.

He hadn't seen or heard me yet. I had long since learned how to walk around the house without being heard. I followed him around the house and to my mother's bedroom. I stood outside the cracked open door and watched as he pulled down his pants and r***d my mother. I had no idea exactly what he did, but I watched him move back and forth on top of my mother. He would bend his head down, but I had no idea what he was doing. Once he was done, I watched as he pulled out a knife and slit her throat. I ran from the door just before he turned around and saw me.

The next day, when I was found, I was told what had happened. I never said a word to anyone after that night. I didn't really hear what they were saying. I knew they were saying something; I didn't want to know what it was. To this day, I still can't get that image of my mother being r***d out of my head. It haunts me to this day. I never speak, not even when I'm alone. No one will ever hear me talk again.

Many people have tried to get me to talk over the years, but it never works. When I stopped talking, I also stopped caring about everything. I never speak. I never show emotion. It's been hard keeping friends and jobs, but I've become an expert at being alone now. After I lost my brother, I stopped caring about everything. Even my own health.

My brother was my best friend, and I stopped caring when he disappeared that night. It's been nearly ten years since that night, and I still miss my big brother. When our mother was away, he would take care of me. We would spend every day together, but now that he's gone, I spend my days alone. No one will ever be able to fill the gap in my heart that aches only for my brother.

I've tried dating, but things never work out because they want me to talk to them, but I can't. Maybe if my brother was here, I could talk to people and wouldn't find it so hard to be around people. I was always shy, but when I was with Nick, I knew he would protect me. He was more than just my brother; he was my best friend and my protector. I still have the locket he gave me for my birthday. It has a picture of the two of us from when we were little. That's another thing about me, my birthday was the day my mother and brother were murdered.